Stayin' Alive
by Lady of Devices
Summary: Alternate ending to/continuation of Army of Darkness. Ash swallows the juice, says the words, and wakes up in the woods near a...oh, no. Not again.
1. In the Beginning

_Partially inspired by "No Indians in my Cupboard" by ReneeHouck, partially inspired by wondering what would happen if my OC and Ash met and how that would work out. I can't seem to write rude characters, so more of Ash's softer side shows than it probably should. Also, the chapters are short but hopefully the quality of the words makes up for their lack of quantity. Reviews, as always, are much appreciated. Enjoy!_

* * *

Ash took the potion from Arthur's Wise Man, kissed Sheila passionately, and rode off into the sunset. Or so it seemed. Really he rode just far enough to make it look good, sent the horse back home with a smack on its rear, took a swig of the potion—which tasted awful—and recited the words. Well, maybe not every single tiny little syllable, but basically he said them. Basically. Anyway, it took a few seconds for the stuff to take effect. Ash was just beginning to doubt the Wise Man's potion-brewing capabilities when he stumbled, feeling a little woozy, his vision blurred, and then...blackness.

 **{(+)}**

Oh, boy, did I have a headache. I couldn't remember much of the past night, but it must have been some party to leave me feeling like something the cat dragged in. Wait. No, there hadn't been a party. Bits and pieces started coming back to me. Phew, what a nightmare. No. Not a nightmare, either. It had really happened. My sister, my friends, even my hand. The portal to the Dark Ages, the battle with the Deadites; it had all happened. Which meant...

I sat bolt upright, peering around me. I was in the woods. I was back! I got to my feet, laughing with pure joy. "I'm back, baby! Hahaha, _yeah!_ " I shouted, punching the air.

Okay. First things first. Find the nearest town and get some real clothes. I was still in that ridiculous medieval getup. It might have been all right back then, but this was the eighties now. I couldn't very well stomp around the local S-Mart looking like a Round Table reject, could I?

There was just one problem. I could see that I was in the woods, but I had no clue which ones. Or which direction the nearest town might be. I scowled. Had I faced down literal Hell for two nights in a row, gotten thrown into the Dark Ages, taken on an entire Deadite army led by my evil undead (and ugly) clone, and finally made it back to my own freaking time only to be defeated by the lack of a map? No way. So I spun around, arm outstretched, and when I stopped I was pointing at a gap between the trees that looked like a game trail. Good enough for me. I adjusted my cloak, set my jaw, and started walking.

It was almost nightfall—which was making me a little twitchy considering I didn't have much ammo—when I spotted a building through the trees. Suddenly I knew _exactly_ where I was. "You gotta be kiddin' me," I muttered. An old wooden cabin stood before me, nestled deep within the Tennessee wilderness.

Well, dark was coming on fast, so I didn't have much choice: either stick it out inside the cabin or roam the woods virtually unarmed. So I approached with a sigh, wondering if the vortex had swallowed all evidence of what had happened there or if I'd find still-fresh bodies inside.

Wait a second.

That couldn't be the same cabin. A truck and trailer were parked in front of it, a warm light glowed in the windows, and I could faintly hear...my God, was that music? It was. Zeppelin, no less. Suddenly feeling much more hopeful, I banged on the door. "Hey! Open up, will ya?"


	2. An Unexpected Party

_First off, sorry for missing the Friday update this week-the weekend was pretty busy and relatively wifi-less. Secondly, thank you very much to The Girl from Badlands for the favorite. It means a lot. :) Third and finally, just a reminder that reviews are always appreciated. Thanks, and enjoy!_

* * *

Ohh, it had been a long drive. One hundred percent worth it, though. I truly loved life on the road...but sometimes I just needed to spend a couple of weeks in a bed that wasn't on wheels. When that happened I drove up to my dad's old hunting cabin in Tennessee. It was up in the mountains and surrounded by woodlands. Apparently it used to be quite a dump, but dad had renovated it a while back. It was pretty nice for such an old place.

My own little cabin in the woods. I sighed contentedly as I took off my boots, finally done with unloading groceries, feeding my cat Anya, and tidying up. It was amazing how much dust gathered between visits. Then I flopped down on the bed, tuned the radio to the local classic rock station (reception was surprisingly great in the area), and settled in for a nap.

I was woken up by someone pounding on my door.

Sitting up with a groan, I checked the clock. What time...man, I'd been asleep for hours. Whoever was outside was still making a ruckus. "All right, all right," I mumbled, shuffling groggily to the door. It was pretty suspicious, actually, as my cabin was situated smack dab at the corner of No and Where. But the way I figured it, if whoever it was wanted to rob, rape, and/or murder me, they probably wouldn't start by making enough noise to wake the dead.

So I opened the door a few inches, leaving it chained just in case, to see who it was. Some guy dressed in medieval-style clothes stood on my doorstep. What the heck? Maybe he was with a Middle Ages reenactment group or something. I'd participated in one a few times, and it was actually pretty fun. And, I had to admit, the costume looked good on him. Or what I could see of him in the dim light.

"Can I help you?"

His face was shadowed, but I could practically feel him looking me over. "You know, I bet you can," he said, all charm.

I cleared my throat. "I meant with regards as to the reason you're wandering around the woods in a knight costume. Did your horse break down or something?"

He chuckled self-consciously, suddenly deflated. "Heh, yeah. Actually, he went home and I'm...well, I'm lost."

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. The guy was obviously harmless. "You need a ride?"

He hesitated. He seemed nervous. "Right now?" Maybe he didn't like the dark. I couldn't say I blamed him—these woods were dang creepy at night.

I guess it could wait until morning. It wasn't like I was too eager to drive the two hours to town and then two hours back again after a whole day behind the wheel, anyway. "You can stay the night if you want," I told him. "But you're either sleeping in the trailer or on the couch. The bed is _mine_." I might have unconsciously bared my teeth a little—I was _not_ giving up my first night in a real bed since last summer.

"Hey, no arguments here," he replied, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"In that case..." I undid the chain and opened the door with an exaggerated curtsy. "Welcome to my humble abode, sir knight. Nice breastplate, by the way."

"Thanks," he said absently, looking around the room as if trying to remember something. Suddenly his brown eyes widened, one dark eyebrow quirking at an almost comical angle, and he took a stumbling half-step backward. Swaggering self-confidence gone, he looked thoroughly shaken. "No," he murmured.


	3. Lending a Hand

_Sorry if I confused anyone last week with the point of view shift! In my excitement to share the story, I forgot to mention that the perspective will be switching between Ash and my OC every chapter. So since it started out with Ash narrating, all the odd-numbered chapters will be him and all the even-numbered ones will be Claire._

* * *

The inside of the cabin was all too familiar. But it had to be a different one...just laid out exactly the same. Impossible! It had obviously been renovated, and none too recently. At least a few years ago. It couldn't possibly be the same one. And yet...

"No."

The girl gave me a weird look. "What?" she asked, sounding confused.

I shook my head hastily. "Nothing. I just thought...the place looks familiar."

She didn't seem convinced, but let it slide. "Yeah, okay. Well, I'll grab you a blanket. You can leave your armor by the door. What's up with that, anyway? Are you with a reenactment group?"

I chuckled nervously. She'd never believe the truth. "Something like that." The girl went into the next room and I looked around some more while I started undoing my breastplate. There was no doubt by this point. It was definitely the same cabin. I could feel it. But how? It was making me uneasy.

I was distracted when my bulky prosthetic hand slipped on a buckle—stupid gauntlet. The girl came back just as I muttered an exasperated curse and tried again.

She saw what I was up to and set a folded blanket on the arm of the couch. "Why don't you try taking off that gauntlet first?" she suggested dryly.

"Why don't you try detaching a hand?" I snapped. Then I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. It wasn't her fault. How could she know? "Look, kid—" I started.

"Kid? You'd better watch it, Sir Sourpuss, or you'll be sleeping in a pile of leaves. You can't be that much older than me."

Really? She looked...sixteen or seventeen. Eighteen, maybe, but definitely not out of high school yet. "Yeah?"

She raised her chin belligerently. "Yeah," she retorted. "In fact, I'm gonna be twenty-three in a few months."

Twenty-two! Jeez. "Wow. I, uh, never would have guessed."

She snorted. "Never mind. I'm used to it. Anyway, you were saying, about your gauntlet?"

Oh, right. I detached it and held it up to show her.

"Holy cheese and fudge on toast!" she blurted. Well that was a new one. "What..."

I couldn't resist a smile as I tossed her own line back at her. "Don't worry. I'm used to it." A twist, a click, and the gauntlet was firmly reattached to the end of my right arm.

She seemed sheepish enough, but offered only the practical apology of a truce. Gesturing to the buckle I'd been having trouble with, she asked, "Need a hand with that?" As soon as the words left her mouth, it was obvious she regretted them. Her cheeks turned bright red and she closed her eyes as if willing herself to become invisible.

She looked so embarrassed I couldn't even be angry with her. I laughed. "Sure, kid." Cheeks still burning, she stepped up to undo the buckle. She was kinda cute when she was flustered. "Thanks," I said softly, my breath stirring her dark hair.

She blushed even deeper and her fingers slipped. It took her a sec to regain her composure, then she lowered her head and finished unbuckling the breastplate with determined movements. I couldn't help but smirk at how easy it was to fluster her.

"My name's Claire, by the way," she spoke up suddenly, working on the last buckle and doggedly avoiding eye contact. "Claire Hoskins."

"I'm Ash."


	4. Lost Time

I almost dropped the breastplate. Which would not have been good. I mean, it was made of real metal so there was no danger of _it_ getting banged up but, thin as it was, it was still heavy enough to break my foot.

"Crap," I muttered, adjusting my grip. After setting it down in the corner by the door I straightened up to face my guest, who was eying me oddly.

"Ash, as in...Ashley Williams?" I asked tentatively. Come to think of it, he did look an awful lot like those old newspaper pictures. But it couldn't be the same guy! It was impossible.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Yeah," he replied, wary. "What's it to you?"

"But—that's not—you went missing," I said, trying to get a grip on my thoughts. "Presumed dead. Ashley J. Williams, his sister Cheryl, and friends Scott—"

"I know their names," he snapped. "I was there."

"But that was thirty years ago," I said quietly.

He stared. "Thirty...? No. No, it just happened. Just a few nights ago," he stammered. I couldn't offer an answer. After a second of shocked silence he sank into a chair. "Jesus."

It was simply not possible. But there was the living proof, sitting in my favorite armchair. Silence reigned as we both tried to wrap our heads around what was going on. In the background, I could hear the radio playing _Bad Moon Rising_. In that moment, it seemed so ridiculous that I had to stop myself from breaking down into a giggling fit.

Suddenly Ash's expression clouded with anger and he clenched his fists. "That damn wise man. I'm gonna find every single one of his descendants and throttle 'em. 'Thine own time'. Hah," he said, descending into grumbled curses.

"What?" He wasn't making any sense.

Before he could answer, there was a muffled thump and a soft scratching noise in the next room. He sprang to his feet, whipping out a shotgun from a holster hidden in his cloak and training it on my half-open bedroom door.

"Whoa, hey! What are you—"

He shushed me impatiently, listening as he advanced cautiously towards my room. Anya, my Russian Blue, slipped through the door. Skirting Ash with a scornful flick of her tail, she came straight for me, mewing softly. Ash let out the breath he'd been holding and lowered the gun, looking like he'd nearly had a heart attack.

After gathering Anya in my arms, I glared at him. "You almost shot my cat! What is _wrong_ with you?"

"You could have mentioned it sooner," he retorted.

"It didn't come up—I didn't think it was important!" Anya gave me an injured look. I just scratched under her chin and she began purring contentedly, the slight to her dignity forgotten.

He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and shook his head. "Ah, forget it," he muttered.

Ash was still holding the shotgun. The fact that he'd seemed so ready to use it made him seem a bit...unstable. It made me nervous. So I reared up to my full height (which was barely past his shoulder) and said firmly, "Put that away, please. You can have it back in the morning but until then I'd like to keep it locked up."

Ash glowered at me and snorted. "Fat chance. This place might have gotten a new paint job, but it's still the same cabin, and that means there's still something out there. I can feel it."

His belligerence made me angry enough to forget that I was nervous. It wasn't an unreasonable request. I'd even said please. Ash might have spent a couple of nights in this cabin thirty years ago, but it was my home now. I glowered right back, unintimidated by the fact that he was a full head taller than me even without the help of his fluffy dark locks. "I don't care who you are, what happened to you, or what you can feel. I'm not letting you hang onto a gun in my home."

"Why don't you try and take it, then?" Ash challenged, his voice dangerously quiet.

I narrowed my eyes. I couldn't take anything from him by force and he knew it. And I wasn't going to try, because I knew how it would end. Either I would embarrass myself, or someone—probably me—would get hurt. Quite possibly both. So I did the only sensible thing I could: stalked to the door and opened it.

"Get out."


	5. Truce?

She glared at me, helpless to do anything about my decision. She knew she didn't have a snowflake's chance in Hell trying to take anything from me by force. I doubted she would even try.

Then she walked to the door and told me to get out. "What?" I asked, taken aback.

"You heard me," she said, and coldly delivered an ultimatum. "I will not allow you and that gun to be together under my roof, so either you part with it for a night or you pack up your armor and sleep in the woods. Have fun."

I gave the woods a wary look through the open door and shifted uncomfortably. "Can I at least expl—"

"No," she interrupted flatly. "You have five seconds to make a choice before I go get a gun of my own and make it for you."

Jesus, she was serious. "All right, all right." What choice did I have, really? I wasn't going back out there at night, no way. "Here." I held out the shotgun reluctantly.

Claire accepted it without any sign of hesitation and shut the door. She then took it down to the cellar, which she locked up behind her. I shuddered at the memory of everything that had happened down there. Honestly, she didn't even need to bother with the lock; I wasn't going in there without a Deadite on my tail.

She still seemed pissed off when she came back up. Jeez, point a gun at her cat once and she never forgives you. I didn't see the big deal, it wasn't like I'd actually shot the thing. Without another look at me she stormed into the kitchen, where I could hear her clattering around.

After a couple of uncomfortable minutes alone with her cat staring disapprovingly at me from the hearth, I figured that maybe I owed the kid an apology. An explanation, at least. I could still feel an undercurrent of evil surrounding the place, but it wasn't much more than a slight uneasiness. Actually, considering how my week had gone so far, that might have just been my well-developed paranoia.

So I cautiously entered the kitchen, where Claire was chopping up vegetables with a very sharp knife and intense energy. I winced at the treatment those carrots were getting when I realized that she was probably imagining bits of _me_ on the cutting board.

"Hey, Claire," I tried, false cheer practically dripping from my voice.

She ignored me.

"What's cooking?"

Frosty silence.

All right, there was nothing for it. "Look, I'm sorry about the gun. You know I disappeared from here a while back, but you don't know how or why. I don't wanna tell you more than I have to, but...it wasn't pretty. I had to bury two of my friends, my sister, and my girlfriend. That shotgun helped me survive a lot of crap and, well, I guess I've gotten a little attached to it. Especially around here, I get itchy without a weapon nearby. You would too."

There was the slightest falter in Claire's movements. Then she sighed, continuing her chopping with noticeably less ferocity. "I'm sorry too. I just don't know what's going on and I don't like it when it looks like someone's in a 'shoot first and ask questions later' frame of mind. It's too easy to make a terrible mistake that way."

She sounded like she had first-hand experience with that kind of thing. I wondered what had happened, but decided not to pry. "D'you need a hand with anything in here? I can only offer one," I said, grinning.

I was rewarded with a tiny smile. "Sure," she said. "These are for soup tomorrow; I'm going to put the crockpot on when I drive you into town. But if you could put a pot of water on to boil, I'll get to work on tonight's dinner as soon as I'm done with the carrots."

I let out a sigh of relief. It sounded like Claire's foul mood had safely dissipated. Then I got the water boiling and helped in the kitchen until we were sitting down to bowls of chili and pasta. Suddenly I realized that I hadn't had real food in almost a week. This stuff was good.

"So," I asked between bites, "What year is it exactly?"

Claire jumped a little, like she'd almost forgotten that I was from a different time. "It's, um, it's 2016," she told me.

2016? Dammit, I really had been gone for thirty years. Well, a resourceful guy like me should have no problems adjusting to the new century, right? ...Right. I sighed. What a mess.

"I can help fill you in if you want," Claire said. "The major stuff first, then whatever you're interested in from there."

I gave her a weird look. "You're taking the whole time travel thing really well," I said suspiciously.

She shrugged, finishing a mouthful of pasta before saying simply, "I watch a lot of Doctor Who."

Wasn't ringing any bells, but I thought I detected a faint note of sarcasm.

"It's a British TV show about a time-traveling alien. Seriously though, chances are that either you're lying—no offense—or that this is a dream. And if you really are the Ash Williams that disappeared from this cabin, then, well...you're still just a person. It doesn't really matter how it happened. Magic, aliens, an act of God, who cares? You have more reason to be freaking out than I do."

Huh. Well that was one heck of a broad-minded view, even if it did sound like she was still trying to convince herself of it. I couldn't help but laugh. "You're quite the practical one, aren't ya?"

She looked embarrassed. "There's just no point in screaming my head off over anything," she mumbled into her chili. "Especially if it's not actually dangerous."

"I'm dangerous," I told her.

She laughed. I gave her an indignant look. What was she laughin' for?

"You might be," she said, "But you're still a dork."

Oh. So _that's_ what was so funny. I went sulkily back to my food.

"I'm sorry, Ash, but you are," she said, smiling. "There's nothing wrong with being a dork, though. It doesn't negate your dangerousness, just...complements it. Like PB&J. Kinda like me."

I almost blurted 'you're not dangerous' before I remembered that look in her eye when she was slicing carrots. I wasn't sure if she was actually dangerous or not, but I did know that I was going to be giving her cat a wide berth. "Hm," was all I said as I kept eating. I found myself wondering if she would survive a Deadite attack.

I shook my head forcefully, dismissing the thought. The cabin had apparently been quiet for the past thirty years. Why should things suddenly act up now? I should damn well leave sleeping dogs lie.


	6. Not-So-Sweet Dreams

_As warned, last week Ash's waaaaay softer side was revealed. Toldja I couldn't write brash characters. Anyway, just popping in to say thanks for the continued support; it's a good feeling to know that even a few of you out there think this is worth reading, haha. Also, sorry for always posting late. Every Friday I get this little niggling sense that I've left something undone, and it always turns out to be updating this thing. Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy the story, even as it progresses further into madness and pointlessness._

* * *

Ash seemed insulted when I called him a dork. I tried to make him lighten up, but he just became pensive. Suddenly he shook his head emphatically, as if to rid it of a bad thought.

I looked at him curiously. "What's up?" I asked.

He looked up, snapped out of his reverie. "Hm?"

"What were you thinking about? You looked grim."

He took a deep breath, as if collecting—or dismissing—his thoughts. "Ah, it was nothing. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so." He gave me a sour look. I held up my hands. "Look, I don't mean to give you a hard time, man. I'm sure this whole evening has been weird for both of us. How about we just finish up with dinner and get to bed?"

He nodded tiredly. "No kidding. It's been a long week."

He looked like he could use some rest. "I dunno what kind of crap you've been through, but you've been through a lot of it, and you definitely deserve a good night's sleep," I told him, then picked up our bowls and headed for the kitchen. Ash started to get up, but I waved him off. "I got it. I've actually slept recently."

He didn't even answer, just gave a tired, grateful sort of wave.

"Just make sure you take off your boots before you fall asleep," I called from in the kitchen. It had always been a steadfast rule in my family that there were absolutely no shoes on the furniture. Ever.

I heard a mumbled "yeah, yeah," as I rinsed the dishes. When I was done and came back out to the living room, it was to find Ash sprawled out on the couch, asleep. Spread out like that, he looked just like my big brother did when _he_ was asleep. His boots were conspicuously placed in the middle of the floor. Smart Alec. I spread a blanket over him, collected Anya from her perch on the back of my armchair, and went to bed.

It didn't take long to get to sleep but, for the first time I could remember, I didn't have a restful night at the cabin. I had all kinds of bad dreams. Falling, drowning, fire, giant bugs, zombies...burning zombie cockroaches. You name it.

By the time morning rolled around, I was more tired than if I hadn't slept at all. I was usually an early riser at the cabin but when I got up Ash was already up and about, quietly pacing the main room.

"You're up early," I commented.

He paused when he saw me, then went back to pacing. "Couldn't sleep."

"Bad dreams?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Me too, which is weird. I never have nightmares here."

Ash stopped. "Never?"

I shook my head, already headed for the kitchen. "Nary a one except for last night. Man, it was like an accumulation of all the bad dreams I _should_ have had or something. Maybe it had something to do with a...a temporal disturbance or something, caused by you time-traveling here." Mm. What should I get us for breakfast?

"A what?" He said, following me into the kitchen.

"Never mind. Just wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff."

He gave me a wary look, muttering, "Whatever that means."

I didn't care if he thought I was weird. Faced with a real time-travel crisis, or space-time disturbance, or whatever, I was going to take all the help I could get. Even from Doctor Who. But back to the more important issue: breakfast. I decided on eggs, bacon and toast, then handed Ash a frying pan, distracted. "Can you take this for a sec? Thanks. Now what the heck did I do with that toaster last time..."

Ash seemed to suddenly realize something. And judging from his expression, the realization was an alarming one. "Claire, I think we should get out of here."

"What? Why?"

He hesitated. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but somehow, I think that me being here is...waking something up. I thought we got rid of it. But you and I both had nightmares last night, and I've got this real bad feeling. It's like a rock sitting in my stomach." He started pacing again. "I don't like this."

I cracked a few eggs and started scrambling them. "Relax. After breakfast I'll fill you in on the past thirty years. Maybe we can read up on Einstein's theory of relativity while we're at it. Then, if you don't want to stay here, you can get your gun and we'll drive into town. I could spot you fifty bucks or so...and get you some real clothes." After a moment of thought, I said, "Actually, there might be something of mine that'll fit you for the trip to town. A shirt, anyway; I don't think any of my jeans would be long enough. Sorry."

Ash didn't seem to hear. He just kept pacing. I had to make a grab for the frying pan as he passed me, then chase after him for it when I missed. When I grabbed his shoulder he nearly brained me with it. "Jesus, Claire!"

"Watch your mouth," I said reflexively as I took the pan. "Now listen. There's a dresser in my room. Look in the second drawer and find a shirt that fits." Ash gave me a dubious look but didn't say anything. "If you touch anything else I'll kill you. Then come back here and we'll have some breakfast. Eggs and bacon, yum," I finished.

"But—"

" _Eggs. And. Bacon,_ " I repeated forcefully. "Now go."

With a defeated sigh, Ash left to do as he was told.


End file.
